The (Un)Friendly Drinks
by everybreatheverymove
Summary: AU set in 9x22. They went for drinks in 9x22 and things didn't go according to plan. Requested by Haspen.


**AU: They went for drinks in 9x22 and things didn't go according to plan. Requested by Haspen.**

* * *

_I'm not completely satisfied._

That's what people say when they return food, candy bars, sweet things. It's what people who've just had disappointing sex say, share, tell.

But then his hands meet her skin, pressing into and grabbing, leaving his marks along her body.

She shifts a leg on top of the box, gripping his shoulder for support and softly letting a moan escape past her lips when he pulls her jeans down to her knees and lifts her legs to wrap around his waist.

She drops her own fingers to his pants, quickly unbuckled and unzipping them, letting them fall as he lays her back across the cases.

They'd gone for drinks, as friends and nothing more. They'd planned to talk, share, laugh, discuss. Not make their way to the storage room, lock the door, and go at it next to cases of beer.

Her hands grip the hard plastic boxes, lifting her head to look across at him, watching as he slips his wallet from his abandoned jeans and pulls out a condom. They're being careful this time. One of the last times they'd been together had resulted in their clumsy ending, their demise, their failure.

"Jackson?"

He raises a brow, glancing up at her as he pulls down his boxers and grabs the backs of her knees.

"Yeah?"

Her back arches into him, clothed chest pushed to his, bottom pressed roughly to the case when he slips inside of her, hands moving to cup the sides of her face. Her breath hitches and she holds a breath, clutching to his biceps and slowly finding a pace with him, grinding her hips to meet his every move. "I haven't- Since-"

Jackson nods slowly, a small frown on his face mixed in with a proud smirk. He doesn't need another word. He knows her, knows what she's trying to say. He's used to her stutters, her sometimes uneasy confessions. And he's happy about that fact, happy that she's only ever been with him, only ever been touched by him, only ever been discovered so closely, so intimately, by him. "Crap."

April digs her fingernails into his arms, hands curling around his elbows, and lifting her behind up when he slips a hand down her back to bring her closer, touch her more.

He wasn't aware of how much he needed it, needed her, until lately. He thought he was doing a good job of letting her go, of walking away, but then he'd agreed to friendly drinks and all of his progress had been forgotten. His daily reminders to himself to smile at her and make small talk were long gone when she'd batted her eyelashes and supped her drink with pursed lips. The constant ache he felt when he pictured her with someone else, with that guy, kissing or more, had vanished the second he'd grabbed her by the waist, when he'd given up and given in.

She feels her legs tightening by his sides eventually, meeting his lips as he leans down to kiss her slowly, somehow roughly, mostly passionately. She'd missed this, missed him. She'd missed the contact, the feel of him, the look in his eyes, the sensation of going to the carnival and hoping onto the rides. She never wanted to stop it, though she was aware that she really should. They'd made progress. They were talking, they were on their way back to being friends again, though they'd never get their previously platonic relationship back.

He reaches his climax a little while after she does, hands marking her flesh and eyes burning into hers, mouth parting against her own, the smell of alcohol and countertop peanuts passing between them.

He pulls away from her soon, riding it out and taking the most of her while he still can. They stay like that for a moment, skin to flesh and lips to skin. They would stay like that forever if they could. If it weren't so bad.

_I am not completely satisfied._

But she is, she is completely and utterly satisfied, content with herself. She's not returning any candy and she's definitely pleased with those past ten minutes.

Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged, and she pulls down on the hem of her shirt when he steps behind her, hands resting on her hips again. They'd miraculously redressed without any hands traveling and eye wandering.

"We've gotta go."

"Five minutes." He begs quietly, pressing his lips to the base of her neck and dragging her hair to the side.

April sighs, closing her eyes and she almost drifts into him, lets him win her over again.

"Somebody might walk in."

"You weren't worried about that a minute ago." He informs her, slipping his arms around her waist and tugging her against his front.

She grips his forearms and swallows a breath, softly giggling when he kisses down the side of her throat, "Jackson," She tires to spin around to face him, to no prevail when he keeps her in place, "We can't."

"We just did."

"I know, and- I feel terrible about that." She tells him honestly. "I- I cheated." She runs a hand over her face at the realisation and leans back into him. "I'm not a cheater, and neither are you, but you- You made me."

"April-" Jackson sighs, letting his eyes close and he breathes her in, nose pressed to her shoulder. He can't listen to this again, can't hear her ramble and rant and possibly cry over a broken promise and a lack of purity.

"No, just- You made me cheat, but I- I don't feel guilty about that. I don't feel guilty about cheating. I feel guilty-"

"Because you liked it?"

They're brought back to the memory of a year earlier, of a nervous redhead sweating in the men's room and a pissed plastic surgeon. They're brought back to that time she bent over a toilet seat and let him have his way with her for five minutes, and she wasn't even ashamed about it. How could she be when it had felt so good?

"Because I liked it." April repeats, dropping his arms and lowering her own to her sides. She softly bites her bottom lip and rests her head back to his shoulder. "Did you?"

He grins, green eyes staring down into her closed ones, hands searching for hers, "I don't think you have any idea how long I've been wanting to do that." He informs her, licking his lips and taking in the blueberry smell of her hair, "The only difference is that I don't feel guilty."

April gently smiles, tugging on his hand and leading him back toward the door, "Come on."

He follows in silence, waiting until they're back in the bar before he asks, pries out of curiosity, "April, what- What are we gonna do?"

The redhead pauses, suddenly unsure and she chews on her lip, running her hands through her hair when she notices its state. "I need a comb before I do anything."

Jackson chuckles, stepping closer to her, directly in front and gazing down at her dishevelled appearance, bring his hands to the sides of her face, fingers sweeping her hair from her frame and thumbs tracing the corners of her lips. "I think you look beautiful."

She almost blushes, almost giggles like a schoolgirl. And she would, if it weren't for the voice that replied in her place.

"Are you kidding me?"

He turns his head to the side then, suddenly aware of where he was, and who he was with, and how public he was being. And of his girlfriend that he was meant to have plans with.

"I, uh-"

Stephanie squints, pointing a finger at him and eyeing the pair, "First, you ignore me for eleven days but I choose not to make anything of it because I think 'oh, he's got all this important board stuff to manage, this is normal'. But then we make plans, again, and you blow me off to screw your ex in the back? Really?!"

April nervously steps away from him, folding her arms over her chest self-consciously and diverting her gaze to the ground.

"Steph-"

"No." The intern shakes her head, scowling at him and the redhead beside him, "I'm done. I am done. I'm not a play-thing, okay? I'm a human beings, I have feelings. And you obviously don't wanna be with me, so I'm done wasting my time with you." She throws her hands up, quickly picking up her purse and jacket from the bar and brushing past them to head towards the exit.

"That went-" He begins, turning to face April.

She sighs, "Do you feel guilty now?"

"I don't know." He shrugs and sticks out a hand for her to take.

April accepts and comes back closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around her waist comfortably.

"What do we do now?"

"I have no idea."


End file.
